Wristband
by DarkandtwistyGirl
Summary: Teenchester, Sam’s 15. They had been so careful to hide Sam’s recent trip to the hospital, but they forgot one detail, the wristband... *Complete*


_**Disclaimer: I own nothing that has anything to do with Supernatural or the characters, unless you count the DVDs. This is just for fun.**_

_**Hey folks! Me again, this is just a little fic that came to me while I was at class (I was supposed to be learning about childcare!)**_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

When you go to see a movie, you get a ticket.

When you go to the beach, you get seashells.

And when you go to hospital, you get a wristband.

* * *

It hadn't been a difficult hunt, a vampire trying to create a nest, luring unsuspecting girls in, and turning them. John Winchester was determined to stop it before it hurt anyone, it had all been going to plan. John and his teenage sons, Dean and Sam had been hiking through the dense bushland, machetes drawn, on the lookout for the creature. John led them, Dean was at the back, and between them, seemingly protected was the youngest, Sam.

But then Sam suddenly stumbled, catching his foot on a rock, he lost his balance, and fell backwards towards Dean, or rather the machete that Dean held.

The scream that ripped through Sam as the weapon punctured his skin, and by his own body weight, was driven through his torso.

* * *

Dean's heart fell to his knees as the razor sharp machete was ripped from his hand. "SAMMY!!!" He screamed out in horror as he watched his brother falling, and the weapon impaling him.

* * *

For John it seemed to happen in slow motion. He was leading his sons through the bushland, watching for any sign of the vamp.

Then he heard the screams, instinctively he spun around, and in that moment his world crashed down around him. Sam was on the ground, bleeding profusely from the massive wound inflicted by the machete, Dean was crouched beside him, in a panic, trying to put pressure on the wound with his overshirt.

Dean was yelling at him to help, but John couldn't move.

Sam was conscious, and in unbelievable pain.

"Dad! Help!! We've got to get him to the hospital! Come on!!!"

Slowly Dean's frantic cries got through to John, and he rushed over.

"Oh... Fuck! Dean, help me lift him up, we need to keep him as still as we can or it'll do more damage."

They had to force themselves to block out Sam's screams of agony as they moved him.

Once Sam was in his father's arms, John instructed Dean, "You go ahead, get the kit out of the trunk, and pad up the back seat, we can't lay him flat."

Needless to say, Dean didn't want to leave his brother, but he also knew that he had to go, or he was putting his brother's life in further danger.

It was already his fault that Sam had been hurt, he had been too close, and now Sam had a machete through his body.

* * *

By the time John reached the car, Dean had gotten everything ready. There was a blanket rolled up, and put on the edge of the seat, and waiting on the roof of the car was every dressing and bandage that they had in their first aid kit, to stabilize the weapon, and stem the bloodflow, and in Dean's hands was a second blanket, to wrap around his brother to ward off shock.

Dean's hands were shaking as he used the dressings and bandages to steady the weapon. They gently placed him onto the backseat, careful not to jolt him, Dean sat as the far end of the bench seat, cradling Sam's head in his lap. Throughout this Sam was conscious, but becoming less and less lucid.

"I'm sorry Sammy," John heard Dean murmur the heartbreaking statement as they settled Sam in.

Once Sam was ready for the twenty minute drive that awaited them, John placed the blanket over his youngest, before slamming the door, and rushing to the driver's seat.

The classic car left a cloud of dust in its wake as John floored the accelerator.

* * *

The nearest hospital was only small, just three doctors on duty, but they jumped into action when the impala came to a screeching halt outside the ambulance bay doors.

There was a flurry of activity as Sam was hurriedly moved inside, amongst the chaos, one of the docs pulled John and Dean to the side of the room.

"What happened here?"

Dean was still a wreck, if anything that helped as John quickly fabricated a story, telling the doctor, "We were up at the cabin, I have a weapon collection. I've told the boys to stay away, but... There's so much blood," John played the part of the worried, but innocent parent perfectly, even though inside he was being torn apart.

"Alrighty then, we're going to take care of him. What's your son's name sir?"

"Sam, he's turning sixteen next month. Please help him."

"We'll do everything we can."

* * *

To Dean and John it felt like years as they waited for Sam to get out of surgery. At some point a nurse had brought them a couple of pairs of scrubs, it was only then that they realised that they were covered in blood.

John filled out page after page of paperwork, all false.

* * *

"He can't die, Dad," They had been sitting in silence for some time, when Dean spoke up, "I was standing too close, if it wasn't for me, he'd just have some scrapes, I can't have killed Sam, Dad, I can't."

"He's not going to die, Dean," John said insistently, trying to assure himself as well as Dean.

"You don't know that, no one fucking knows that!" Dean shouted out in frustration. "People die, Dad! We see people die all the time, Mum died, everyone dies. Sam is in fucking surgery because of my screw up!"

"I told you boys to stay close together, you were following instructions, it was an accident. With what we do, accidents happen, they happen all the time, you know that, Dean. And beating yourself up over it won't change anything. Sam got hurt, but we managed it, we got him here, and there's nothing we can do right now, it's up to the doctors. Now, your exhausted, lie down before you fall down, I'll wake you up when there's news."

* * *

Six long hours later, Sam was out of surgery, and being moved to the ward. The surgeon, Dr Fisher, whom had been called in from home to handle the teen's massive injuries, had struggled to stabilize Sam.

The machete had ripped through Sam's body, perforated his intestines and liver, and nicked his right lung.

Sam was lucky though, the machete had missed his aorta by less than an inch.

* * *

At long last Dean and John were able to see Sam. He had two drains in his stomach, one on each side, fluid steadily running out of them into collection bags, and a tube in his chest to keep his injured lung from collapsing again, along with all the usual paraphernalia, IVs, monitors, and such.

This was Sam's first major injury, the first one he had needed to go to the hospital for, unlike his brother and father, who were tied at five admissions each.

Dean was staying close to his father's side, still shaky.

"He's still pretty groggy from the anaesthetic, but you can sit with him," A nurse explained before telling the pair, "I'll be back to check on him."

* * *

No sooner had the nurse left the room than John told his boys, "Okay, you know the routine, we've got to go. Sammy, just lay there, we'll do all the work." John turned off the heart monitor, and started to disconnect the monitor leads as he instructed Dean, "Grab that wheelchair," Then Sam, "You think you can get into the chair kiddo?"

Sam nodded, and with his brother's assistance, he moved from the bed to the wheelchair, it hurt like a bitch, but it was nothing compared to anaesthetic free sutures.

John hooked the IVs to the IV pole, and placed the drainage bags, the chest tube drain, and the catheter bag in Sam's lap before covering Sam as well as he could with a blanket.

They headed towards the door as John tossed Dean the car keys, and instructed him, "Take Sam down to the car, get him settled, I'll grab some supplies, and meet you downstairs."

Soon they were well on their way to the state line.

* * *

By the time they reached John's chosen destination, Pittsburgh, Wisconsin, Sam was in bad shape. John pulled into the first motel he saw, and checked in while Dean loaded Sam back into the stolen wheelchair, and gathered as many supplies as he could carry.

John came back to the car and his boys, carrying a room key, and he led Dean, who pushed the wheelchair holding Sam to a room. As Dean looked around the room, he could tell that this wasn't a standard room.

John pre-empted his eldest's question, stating, "Disability access, no need to make it harder on ourselves."

* * *

They nursed Sam back to health over the next two and a bit weeks, before he was finally getting around well enough, and his pain was well enough under control that John deemed him ready to go back to school.

Sam was reluctant, but didn't argue, knowing that now he was on the mend, his father would go back to his usual authoritarian role, as always.

Sam was enrolled in the local high school, Hillside High, and the very next day, the Winchesters were readying to go back to school. They gave him pain killers, and put spares in his bag, and made sure that his clothes covered the dressings well.

They had thought that once they got to the next town this could all be put behind them, Sam was on the mend. His wounds were healing, and he could move around without too much pain. The incident could be put behind them.

But the powers that be had other ideas.

* * *

Dean dropped Sam off at the front of the school, and Sam headed into the school. He made it through til after lunch before the shit hit the fan.

His new English teacher was an older woman, with a sharp tongue. After class, she had called for Sam to see her, and Sam obliged.

Out of the blue, much to Sam's surprise, the too nosy teacher asked, "Why were you at the hospital?"

_Crap! _Sam instantly realised his mistake as he followed her glance to the hospital wristband that remained around his left wrist. Before he could stop the old bat, she made a grab for his arm, to examine the band.

Sam waited for the trouble to really start, as he stood there, thinking of how the details on the band wouldn't match the ones he'd given the school.

Sure enough, she picked up on the error. "It says your name's Sam Pierce, what is going on here mister?"

_Run!_ That was the first thought that came into Sam's head, and despite the pain, he ran the five blocks back to the motel.

* * *

By the time he got back to the motel, his breathing was rough, and everything hurt.

It was all he could do to tell his father, "We've got to go, now."

The very next day, Hillside High School burned to the ground, killing everyone. No one could make sense of it, seemingly no one had even tried to escape the inexplicable inferno.

Sam would never know that his life had been saved by a wristband, of all things.

* * *

_**The End**_

**_Please take a moment to drop me a review!_**


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